


Swimming in a Fish Bowl

by Brookie88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adults, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cussing, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Inspired by Music, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, References to Depression, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Roommates, Sex, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brookie88/pseuds/Brookie88
Summary: Hermione is lost after the war. Harry is a mess that she cannot fix, and everyone around her is grieving. She needs a change. A new wardrobe leads to a new flat, new friends, and a rather old connection she tried to forget about. Did she make it all up? Or was her soulmate in the very next room?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been meaning to write a true Theomione for quite some time. Somehow Blaise snuck in there though. And God I love Ron and Hermione as best friends. 
> 
> A couple of notes: this is set in the early 2000’s so please laugh at the “fashion” references. Also I know that Theo’s chapters have a lot of fragmented sentences. This is how I think he would think so I hope it doesn’t bother too many of you. 
> 
> This story is currently about a third of the way completed. I have it all plotted and just need to get the story down. I will not leave you hanging on this WIP, but due to Covid and distance learning for my kids, the updates may be further apart than I would like. This is inspired by the Pink Floyd song, “Wish You Were Here”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always forever thankful to my beta Rachael.

So, so you think you can tell  
Heaven from hell  
Blue skies from pain  
Can you tell a green field  
From a cold steel rail?  
A smile from a veil?  
Do you think you can tell?  
Did they get you to trade  
Your heroes for ghosts?  
Hot ashes for trees?  
Hot air for a cool breeze?  
Cold comfort for change?  
Did you exchange  
A walk on part in the war  
For a lead role in a cage?  
How I wish, how I wish you were here  
We're just two lost souls  
Swimming in a fish bowl  
Year after year  
Running over the same old ground  
And how we found  
The same old fears  
Wish you were here

-Pink Floyd


	2. Change

It started with change. As it often did in life. The catalyst was more morose than the books she read often described. War. Death. Scars. 

She sighed, as she packed up her meager belongings. When did she start to care about so little? Everything she had fit in this bag. The bag had an extendable charm sure, but a life shouldn’t fit in a bag, she was quite sure of that. 

It should be rich and filled with mementos, and things that mattered. Things that she could gaze upon and remember. Nostalgic happy little things that made up her life.

She had none of those things. She barely even had people that made up her happy memories to hold onto now that her parents were gone, forever forgetful of the fact that she even existed. 

She did have books though. She always had books. The one constant love of her life. Now though, she only had useful books. Ones she needed just in case. Just in case. Everything she had in this bag was just in case. For Harry. For their survival. To defeat Lord Voldemort. She hadn’t feared his name in quite a long time. 

She had practical clothes. Clothes for running, fighting, jumping, and sleeping. Comfortable, practical things that brought her no joy. She wanted to burn them all. Each item brought back the stench of dirt, and damp, and wild mushrooms that she wanted to destroy. Things she hated to put on her body. She no longer had pretty things. 

She never had pretty things. Not really. 

She thought back to the periwinkle dress she donned for the one dance where she tried not to be herself, or maybe the dance where she tried to be more herself than anyone ever realized. She wasn’t sure anymore. Her one pretty thing. 

It was long gone now. She didn’t even remember where she put it. When she wiped her parents memories and cleaned her house of everything useful. And got rid of everything useless. She thought dresses, and books for pleasure were useless at the time. She only took the valuable things. The just in case items. 

Now she had nothing. She hated all her things. She went through the books and kept a meager few. She wasn’t even sure she was interested in them anymore, but she might need them for a future career. Whatever she was going to do. She took inventory of all the rest of the things, and the horrible practical clothes. 

She didn’t want to wear anything practical ever again. 

She was going to burn them all. But the smart thing would be to go shopping first, she supposed. On one hand she didn’t care about shopping, the vapid picture in her mind brought up someone completely different. Someone else much more refined. Which she was not. 

But screw it. She refused to stay the same. And she really hated these fucking clothes. She vowed to never wear them again. This was it, the catalyst to her moving on and beginning again. Reinventing herself into something, someone just for her. Not for a boy. Man. Whomever. Just for her. What did she want to be like? Look like? Experience? What were her interests? What fucking mattered to her? 

She would defy the expectations she had for herself and all the expectations everyone else had for her. She would partake in all the frivolity she had dismayed for so long. She would wear pretty things, and read pleasurable books, and consume all the hedonistic things she possibly could. She was young god damnit. So fucking young. 

This was no Hermione Granger year four. This was Hermione Granger war heroine, adult. She was an adult now. When had that happened? Death has a way of pushing you forward, she supposed. 

She pulled out some money from her bag. She had a lot more in the bank these days. She was awarded money for her heroic efforts in the war, and compensated for what happened to her parents because of the war. It felt like blood money. But she would use it none the less. She was a practical woman after all. It doesn’t help anyone to be a broke idiot. 

She stood up straight and quickly left the room where she was staying at the Burrow and stomped downstairs to find Harry and Ron on the sofa. 

They looked at her with concern and she was sure that her eyes were a mirror as she looked back at them. They saw too much. 

She cleared her throat, “I’m going shopping.” 

Harry groaned but Ron perked up at the thought. 

“I’ll go with you.” He said, and she nodded to him in agreement before asking Harry if he wanted to join. 

“No. What is wrong with your normal clothes?” He asked, thumbing a small hole at the bottom of his shirt.

“I’m going to burn them.” She fiercely replied.

He raised both of his brows in response, but Ron got excited again. 

“Yes!” Ron replied, “I’m going to burn mine too. Fuck yes Hermione.” And he gave her a quick hug around the neck, “yes. Fucking burn them, burn them all!” He went in search of a snack for the trip. 

Hermione giggled before going over to say goodbye to Harry properly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” She asked quietly,“It’s a chance for a fresh start. I can’t stand anything I own.” 

“Yeah. I get it, it’s just… I can’t be out there right now. It’s too much.” 

It always was. He never left The Burrow.

She nodded again, understanding, “then shall I pick out a new wardrobe for you?” She grinned cheekily, hoping he would say yes. 

“Yes. That’s exactly what I want.” He laughed and kissed her cheek. She hopped up to meet Ron at the door.   
————

They arrived at Diagon Ally after quickly apparating. 

“Where do you want to go?” Ron asked, looking like a lost sod. 

Hermione smiled at him, “I’m not sure. I heard they’ve added a few shops that sell both wizarding robes and muggle clothes. Why don’t we wander about a bit and see what catches our eye.” 

They walked quickly, ignoring the stares and the pointing from the passerby’s. Hermione rolled her eyes, Ron frowned. Not even he enjoyed the attention anymore. 

“It’s been two bloody years for fuck’s sake, almost three.” 

“I know,” Hermione replied, “but they haven’t exactly seen us since we’ve been shut in The Burrow all the time. When I returned to Hogwarts for the 8th year, I couldn’t even go into Hogsmeade it was so bad.” 

Ron nodded at her, remembering how bad it got for her, not as bad as it was for Harry obviously, but it was pretty bad. Rita Skeeter’s articles did not help. The dumb bitch. 

They walked further down the street noticing the many new shops along the way before they found a clothing store. 

“The Machiavellian Clothier.” Hermione read, as they stepped inside the shop. 

It was fancier than any store Ron had ever been in. The ground was light pink marble charmed to stay clean and smooth as glass. 

“Hermione look! Silk. Dragon hide. Cashmere. I’m in heaven. I’ve died and gone to heaven.” He rubbed his face in a sweater near the front. It was quite the uncouth behavior. 

Hermione laughed at her friend as he explored the finer things in life. Now that Ron had money, he was keen to indulge as he never had the opportunity to before. 

A throat cleared near them and they turned.

“Welcome to The Machiavellian Clothier. How may I help you?” A sweet but terse voice asked them neutrally. Somehow it didn’t sound quite believable. 

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she took in the appearance of Pansy Parkinson before her. She had grown up since the war. Hermione hadn’t seen her since that fateful day at Hogwarts when she tried to turn Harry over to Lord Voldemort. 

She was on Hermione’s list of people she never wanted to see again, but here she was a slim, fashionable, thorn in her side. She wanted to punch her in that pristine new nose. 

Hermione frowned. Ron looked skeptical. 

“You work here?” He asked a bit rudely. 

“I OWN this establishment, yes. How can I help you?” She slowly took in Ron’s appearance, from his worn shoes, to his frayed trousers, to his homemade knitted jumper. He did not belong here.

The last item he wore proudly, and he fucking dared her with his eyes to say something about his clothes. His jumper. 

She didn’t take the bait. 

“Are you looking for anything in particular? Sir.” 

Sir? The bitch called him sir. She was trying to make a sale? She was trying to pretend like they weren’t enemies? She was trying to what exactly? 

Hermione pushed past him, ignoring his stunned expression. Schooling her expression to one of focus. She had a goal after all. 

“We are looking for a complete overhaul actually, for Ronald, Harry, and myself.” 

Pansy paused, taking it all in, trying not to look too eager at the thought of dressing the golden trio. At the thought of her designs being worn by the most prestigious wizards and witch of their day. She wondered what the cost would be for her to gain this sale. 

“Of course. Will Harry be joining you? Shall we wait for him to get started?” She almost stuttered at the name Harry but pushed through it as if it was a common occurrence. As if seeing Harry didn’t terrify her. As if seeing any of them didn’t make her sweat through her decadent gossamer blouse. As if she was bored by the whole thing. Bored but still a helpful salesperson. She had mastered the role. 

“No. He was hoping we could outfit him just using his measurements. Diagon Alley is a bit… well…” 

“Intense?” She offered.

“Yes. Frankly how do you do it?” Hermione asked.

Pansy paused, searching for an answer. 

“Nevermind.” Hermione quickly supplied, “that was quite rude of me. Are you able to do it?” 

Pansy looked as if she was going to say something, before she gave a small sigh, “of course. You said you were looking for an overhaul. I’m not sure we have much in the casual wear department.” 

Hermione took that to mean Pansy thought she was so unfashionable, that she wouldn’t like anything her shop had to offer. She had to give it to Pansy, it was a much politer way than to say Hermione and Ron wore ugly clothes. She supposed Harry did too. 

“That’s perfect actually,” Hermione continued, “we’ve worn practical things for far too long.” 

She was trying to match Pansy’s polite business interaction. When all she was really thinking is, you’re such a vapid bitch Pansy, how could you try to hand my best friend over to someone so evil? Are you evil too? You don’t look evil, not since you got that nose job. 

But that makes her the bitch doesn’t it, judging someone’s appearance? Judging someone’s obvious attempt to feel better about themselves. For fixing whatever flaws they think they had, manifesting the physical because maybe the emotional was too fucking deep for them to even process or be able to tackle. Not that she understood in anyway. She ignored the screaming in her brain that said she didn’t need clothes, she needed fucking therapy and pressed on. Maybe these new clothes would be a balm to her soul. 

She just felt bad for judging someone for how they were when they were no more than a child. Had she grown up? Was she different too? 

“First I’ll need to take your measurements. Where would you like to start?” 

“Pants.” Ron supplied with a grin. 

“You mean…” 

“My undergarments.” He said with a mocking high pitched voice and an accent, looking her dead in the eyes. 

“And I’d really prefer silk if you don’t mind.” 

Hermione smiled evenly, “yes, I’d like to start with knickers as well.” 

Pansy closed her eyes briefly trying to control her expression. She couldn’t actually believe this was happening. 

“Very well. Right this way. Will Harry need a set of pants as well?” 

“Yes. But he needs extra room in the crotch.” Ron grinned at her as he answered. 

She rolled her eyes, “is that a fact?” 

“You know because of his gigantic bollocks.” 

Pansy bit her lip to keep from being amused. 

“I realize Potter is very brave, but I will need his actual measurements to correctly size him.” 

Ron winked at her, happy to hear her call Harry, “Potter” once again. It was like the real her was just beneath the surface. He couldn’t stand this fake bullshit. 

Pansy rolled her eyes at the wink, and escorted them to the dressing area. A magical tape measure began to take measurements. 

When she was finished, she looked at Hermione with an odd expression.

“I will need to see your current brassiere.” 

“Oh of course, I’ll just take it off.” She moved to take it off underneath her jumper before Pansy, stopped her. 

“No, I need to check the current fit with you wearing it. If you want to follow me into the dressing room.” 

“Oh no, it’s fine.” Hermione said, before pulling off her jumper quickly, standing before one of her childhood bullies with her tits out. Proud and out. 

“I realize the two of you are dating but this is not that kind of shop.” 

Her eyes were wide like a crazy person, one trying not to ogle a semi famous and important person’s rack. One that she previously bullied for looking like a boy’s. One that was no longer masculine in shape or form. 

“Oh we aren’t dating.” Ron replied casually, not even glancing at Hermione’s immodest undress, “we just lived in a tent for a year. Modesty be damned am I right?” 

“So you’re gay for Potter then?” Pansy asked pointedly. She wasn’t at all interested though. 

“Oh no Harry is gay. I am very very straight. Just not with Hermione.” Was he flirting? 

“I can’t believe you just outed Harry to his arch nemesis.” Hermione chuckled. 

“She’s not his arch nemesis. Are you Parkinson?” 

Pansy made a noncommittal noise, but she was secretly relieved. Why did she feel relieved?

“He has another arch nemesis, I do believe.” Ron replied with another wink. 

“What are you taking about Ron?” Hermione asked as Pansy circled her like a hawk, checking out the proper cup size for the witch. 

“Hermione, your bra size is completely wrong.” She said, changing the subject, rather abruptly.

Hermione frowned. 

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” 

“I mean your bra fits poorly. You need a larger cup size and smaller band.” 

At this she brought over three different options for Hermione to try. 

Hermione popped behind the partition for this part. She may be comfortable with Ron seeing her in various states of undress, but she did NOT want her childhood bully to be given the option of making fun of her nipples. Not that there was anything to make fun of, she was quite sure. 

Holy balls this was comfortable, Hermione gasped. 

Then she came back into the main room with a huge smile. 

“You’ve done it. My breasts have never felt this amazing in my life. Is there magic woven into the band?” 

Pansy gave a reluctant smile, “I should have known you’d be one of the few to notice that. It will keep the underwire from breaking or poking you. Supportive comfort.” 

“Looks hot.” Ron said, adjusting himself casually. 

“Thank you Ronald.” Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes. 

Pansy kept a straight face as she moved on to Ron, taking his measurements in the most professional manor. 

He eyed her up and down as she moved to measure his inseam. 

“See anything you like?” He cheekily asked her. 

She cleared her throat ignoring his obvious bating, her eyes consistently neutral. 

“That should cover it. There’s a book at the front to choose from styles and fabrics. If we have it in stock, then you’re welcome to take it with you today. The rest, I will have delivered when they’re made. Would you like to take a copy of the book to Mr. Potter.” 

Mr. Potter? 

Ron looked back at her, as Hermione eagerly devoured the book. It had fabric swatches and a list of magical spells, you could add for extra costs. It was fascinating. 

“You know I really hate you like this.” Ron told her. 

“Like what, Mr. Weasley.” She said the last word as evenly as possible, purposefully to drive him mad. 

“Polite. Passive. Submissive.” 

Hermione interjected, “leave her alone Ron, she’s obviously trying to make this as comfortable as possible. It’s her shop for Godrick’s sake. You said ‘we’ before though?” Hermione remembered.

Pansy sighed, hoping that this would not change their patronage, “yes, Draco and my shop.” 

Oh. 

“How is Dr- Malfoy?” Hermione asked politely, unable to make herself say his name. 

“He’s fine.” 

Ron rolled his eyes, “fucking prat.” 

“Where should I send your purchases when they’re ready.” Pansy replied again, controlling her temper. 

“We’re actually moving.” Hermione answered.

“We are?” Ron asked her, surprised. 

“Oh yes. We haven’t decided where yet, but it is happening fairly soon. New start and all that.” 

“So where should I send everything.” 

“We will let you know.” Hermione smiled.


	3. No rooms for rent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for reading and reviewing! Thank you to my beta Rachael for all of her help.

Draco strolled into the shop as he did most days, leisurely.

“What time do you call this you wanker?”

“What has you all pissy today?” Draco asked as he leaned over to kiss her cheek.

“Oh I don’t know Draco, maybe it was because I had to sell hundreds of gallons worth of clothes by myself without any help.”

Draco’s eyes grew wide at the number.

“Maybe it was because I had to sell the clothes to the people I hate most in the world?”

Draco furrowed his brow as he tried to discern what she was talking about.

“Maybe it was because I had to feel up fucking Hermione Granger?”

“What?” Draco asked dramatically.

Pansy sat in the lush chair next to her design desk.

“You miss a lot when you sleep until noon dear. Like the fact that Harry Potter is gay.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Well it wasn’t completely horrible. The sale made it quite worthwhile in fact, but I did have to put up with Granger’s holier than thou, I’m so mature and accepting of our past, let’s move forward as genial acquaintances bullshit. But I did get to see Weasley’s broomstick.” She smirked.

“You what! You sold clothes to the Weasel? You saw him naked.”

“Just the outline darling. And it WAS quite the outline… Frankly I can’t believe how jealous he was of Potter growing up, going off the difference in measurements they left me.”

“Potter.” Draco fumed.

“Yes. Potter. Are you an idiot?”

“What do you mean?”

“So you are an idiot. Are you an idiot only when Potter is concerned then? Or did I start a business with a stupid troll?”

He sighed, motioning for her to continue.

“Draco, people leave the shop.”

He nodded, remembering. It happened nearly every day. 

“When they see the shop is owned by us, they leave, shouting insults as they depart, I may add.”

“I know.”

“This is a chance at legitimacy. What will they say when someone asks about their clothing overhaul? It is night and day what they’re used to wearing. I had to practically pry that awful jumper off of the Weasel’s muscular torso.”

“Muscular?” He grimaced.

“I see what I see, I tell no lies.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “well at least I didn’t have to witness all this.”

Pansy bit her lip.

“What? Don’t give me that look. What horrible thing are you going to ask me to do?”

“It’s just that they mentioned something. Interesting.”

“What Pansy? My god you’re such a woman! No wonder I can’t stand the thought of dating you.”

“I will ignore your sexist outburst and the fact that only in your dreams could you ever land a babe like me, because I want a favor.”

“What’s the favor?”

“Well they mentioned, when they were buying all the many many items to fill their wardrobes, that they were moving.”

“Okay?”

She bit her lip again.

“Oh no!” Draco shouted fearing the worst, “where are they moving Pans?” 

“They don’t know yet.” Pansy replied in a pretend sweet voice, “quite the predicament, especially since we know firsthand how few wizarding flats there are available to rent. Or buy.”

“Absolutely not.”

Pansy crossed her arms, “fine, but once you think about it, I am sure you’ll come to the same conclusion I did.”

“You don’t even live there! You live above this shop,” Draco argued.

“We both agreed that was best! The flat is 37m x 37m!”

“You’re just spoiled. And now you’re trying to convince me of one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard. Not to mention, you’ll never convince Theo.”

“You leave Theo to me.”

“Is that code for you’re going to suck his dick?”

“Is that code for you’re jealous? Besides, Theo and I only fooled around one time in 6th year, it was weird, and we never did it again.”

“You exasperate me. You honestly expect Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to live in my flat?”

“Theo’s flat.”

“Only because that fucker has control issues.” He paused again, processing, processing and coming to a really horrible fucking conclusion, “Oh no… what about Potter?”

“Well. He wasn’t mentioned.”

“So you’re telling me it’s just the Weasel and His little girlfriend that need a place to stay and their golden hero prince is not a part of the package deal?”

“Oh they’re not dating.” She replied nodding her head as if that was common knowledge.

“They didn’t mention him.” She added sweetly.

“FUCK YOU PANSY!”

Draco stormed out of the shop.

————

Hermione rubbed the potion on Harry’s head, massaging it in delicately.

She was worried about him. Always. In fact it seemed like it was her plight in life to be worried about this man.

She sighed, “don’t you even want to see the packages?”

“No. Mione. I’m not in the mood alright. It’s fucking clothes. They’re stupid.”

Hermione looked hurt. Then angry, “yes okay. It’s stupid!” She yelled at him, stepping back to put the lid on the potion.

“I know that. You think I don’t know that? You think my personality changed and I all of a sudden care so much about vanity that I just have to wear silky knickers and a unicorn hair belt.

“You have a unicorn hair belt?” He questioned.

“It was farmed humanely! I saw the paperwork!” She fumed pointing toward his face.

Harry sighed, “look Mione, I know you want to fix me, but this is just how it is. I want to feel better, I really do, but I’m so tired. I’m exhausted. Molly takes care of me, and I’m safe here, I’ve got you guys. My family here. That’s all I want. I don’t want to go out there.”

“You don’t have us.”

“What?” Harry looked confused.

“Ron and I are moving. Effective immediately. So once you decide to get your sorry arse into a shower, put on proper clothes, that I painstakingly picked out for you by the way, and eat more than two bites of food in one sitting, I just may allow you to move with us. Or at least come visit.” She forced her chin to be stern, pointed up in defiance.

“Ron wants to move?” Harry asked, looking hurt.

“Well, it was my idea. But he agrees Harry. Enough is enough. It’s been over two years, almost three! This house is toxic. Molly and Arthur are wonderful, don’t get me wrong but… they’re still grieving. You’re still grieving. We are all still grieving. This is a house of despair. Sadness, grief, guilt, loneliness, depression, anxiety, enableness…I could go on and on about the horrible way we are all coping together. I can’t stay here a moment longer. And neither can Ron. And neither should you.”

“If we’re so toxic together, why do you even want to live with Ron? Or me?” He frowned again. He looked older than his 20 years.

“Because I need him. And you.” She looked ashamed of the fact, “stupid I know.”

“It’s not stupid.” He reached for her hand.

“Look. Ron and I are going to leave, we will find a place with room for you. I promise it. When you are ready, the door will be open.”

Harry squeezed her hand in response and Hermione squeezed back before she left to go find Ron. They needed to find a flat, today.

————

Theo stepped back to look at his drawing. He squinted at the portrait with the keenest of eyes, kneeling to view it straight on, needing it to match what he could almost make out in the depths of his memories. He sighed. It was wrong. As always.

He grabbed his wand to erase the eyes. Another eyeless drawing of a young woman he barely remembered. Another failure for the pile.

He discovered drawing when he went to a muggle art class to piss off his father. There were many 20 something creatives taking the class. Learning a skill. Pretending they had talent. Pretending that they could make something out of nothing. Pretending they were unique, different, special, and skilled, a raw smugness hiding behind their glasses, a beret, or maybe plaid.

Perhaps they would try to make a living peddling their paintings and portraits, their tapestries, and clay bowls. Ones that would eventually crack from use. Or neglect. Perhaps they would starve for their art as if their highest ambition was for pain to be their muse. Perhaps he could be like them. Perhaps he was. He certainly felt pain.

Although it was in the background now. A constant thrumming in his mind that screamed at him to feel it. To break something. To acknowledge it. To let it CONSUME him. To be consumed. Instead he pacified it. He buried it. He ignored it.

They were pretending just like him. He was just like them after all. And he fucking hated it.

How could he be exactly like a room full of muggles? Mudbloods. Strangers. Nobodies. Nothings. No one. Him.

He felt itchy. Uncomfortable with the realization. Just because he had magic didn’t make him any different from every other male in this room. His father lied. His friends lied. His whole world was a lie, because he was ordinary. What a fucking terrible realization.

The first day he didn’t draw, he didn’t paint, he didn’t sculpt, or craft, or create anything. He observed. He came during a “free expression day.” Whatever that meant.

The nobody in the corner liked to sketch all her silhouettes with pencil first.

Theo held the muggle instrument in his hand and slid it over the page to feel the weight of it as he pressed it onto the canvas.

More practical than a quill. He admitted to himself, but he still felt nothing.

The brooding male two people down from him put his fingers straight into the paint to smear it on his paper before he stared at his hands in surprise as if he couldn’t believe his hands could do anything at all. Then he wiped his dirty painted fingers in a wet rag and began again.

Theo tried to plaster a weak smile on his face. He didn’t brood like that he was sure, but he did not want to have anything in common with this particular fool so he tried to force his face to be amenable.

The next subject in his observation was waif like in stature but wore no shoes. She gripped the paintbrush as if it was her lifeline. Maybe it was. Her work was darker than he would have imagined based on her appearance. And still the dark navies and deep grays took over her canvas. She was captivating not in her beauty but in her passion. She was more skilled than many he had observed so far, and her unexpected darkness called out to him. It interested him. Darkness always did.

He moved on, looking for the next muggle to capture his attention. Someone strange. Someone that didn’t belong in a group like this. Someone that looked embarrassed to be here, but was determined nonetheless. He was tall and broad and looked like he wasn’t misunderstood at all.

He seemed like he came from a family with two parents that were madly in love with each other. Maybe a sister. Maybe a townhouse. Maybe a yard. He was attractive, if you liked that sort of thing. Athletic. Friendly. The ideal man. He supposed. Somewhat Gryffindor like. The name Cormac danced around in his mind in vague comparison. Maybe not as much of a pompous arse. Perhaps.

He continued to view the people in the room, watching, judging, wondering. He couldn’t stop himself. Was he like the guy with the same dark hair, that used charcoal and sketched naked women? The one who drew angelic females as idols or angels or Gods. The perfection oozing off the page in its falsifying dishonesty. No one looked like that.

Maybe some did. Like the pornographic images he saw in Knockturn alley. When he was 13 and snuck away from his father for the first time. When he went into the back room with the pensives and the moving photographs that captivated him in all of their perversion. The women that used spells and potions and magic to create their perfection. They teased, and smiled, and winked in their nudity.

They wanted to touch him. They pretended too, he realized now. They all did. They were surrounded by other people and by themselves. Everyone watching and observing. Like him. A giant fishbowl for their own viewing. Little fishies. All in the mercy of their master.

He looked back across the room. Toward the waif like girl. Woman. He decided he was going to fuck her.

Afterwards, when she was lying there and he was getting dressed and he picked up his blank canvas that he had bought next door in the art shop but didn’t even attempt to do anything with, she asked him, “will you be back in class? Will I see you again?” He doubted it. Not this class.

Question after question annoyed him. Not because he didn’t like her. Although he didn’t. But because he didn’t want to answer them, or answer to her, or anyone or anything. Especially not a madman. A half man. Another false God that the men around him worshiped. The master of the giant fishbowl they swam in.

But not Theo.

Theo sighed, bringing himself back to the here and the now and trying to forget the months that followed the first art class. The one he never went back to. The one he couldn’t return to because of the war. His father’s expectations taking over. And over. And over.

He began to hate himself and what he was expected to do. What he ended up doing. The blood on his hands that he could never wash out. Out damn spot! The expectations. Always more expectations from his father. The betrothal. To her.

“You have 6 months Theodore.” His father spoke again as he walked down the stairway with his belongings.

“I heard you the last 3 times you told me.”

“And yet you still haven’t agreed to sign the contract.”

“I will discuss this with you in 6 months.”

“Is that why you’re running away? You can’t run away forever. You will do your duties boy.”

He looked old now. Old and worn, and ugly, like the leather belt Theo used to feel against his back and arse and thighs, whenever his father drank or got angry or felt guilty about her death and needed someone to blame. Always using the muggle item and sheer brute force so the spells couldn’t be traced back on his wand. He was always ugly on the inside, Theo supposed.

“I’m running away because you are sentenced to house arrest, and I will not join you in your prison.”

“I think you mean thank you? Don’t you? Were it not for me, you’d be here as well.”

“Your one fatherly duty. To assure the heir is free.”

“Watch your mouth.” He hissed, as Theo grabbed the doorknob to leave the muggle way. Another jab against his father.

He left without a goodbye.

————

“Well there is nothing.” Hermione sighed as she leaned against the back of the sofa next to Ron.

“You’re kidding! I’m telling them tonight.” Ron lowered his voice, “and we have no where to go?”

“I’ll think of something.” She answered.

“Aright. Do you want to go get your knickers?”

Hermione laughed, “you mean pick up all our finished garments? Yes, I think we’d better, she already posed twice about where to send them. I think your owl is a bit upset with us for all the errands.”

“Too right, the little bugger.”

Hermione and Ron said a quick goodbye to Harry. They left his dark room with frowns on their faces. Maybe one day soon, he would find the light again. Hermione knew all too well how it felt when it was gone. Emptiness. She felt it too.

They walked into Pansy and Draco’s shop. They had yet to see Draco actually in the establishment, but Hermione was quite sure that was on purpose. Pansy still maintained her frozen politeness and Ron still tried to force her into agitation, relishing in crumbling her façade.

“Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley, are you here to pick up your orders? They’ve been ready for quite some time.” As you well know, was left off.

“Yes. So sorry, we’ve been having some difficulty finding a flat. Where are you staying...” Hermione began before feeling guilty and trailing off.

What was left unsaid was: I know your house and many assets were seized after the war. How could someone on the opposite side of the war find a landlord willing to rent to them, when two thirds of the golden trio were unable to find lodging?

Pansy coughed, tightening her mouth as her mind went through all the unspoken questions Pansy knew Hermione was referencing, “I live above the shop. It’s small. Quite small in fact, but convenient, and I have become accustomed to my independence.”

“Oh. Yeah. It just seems like there aren’t any options. We might have to look in the muggle neighborhoods.” Hermione said, pleasantly. She wouldn’t mind that, but it made things difficult. She would have to forgo a floo, find safe apparition points, be careful with magic, a breeze for her, but not so much Ron.

“A travesty for you both I’m sure.” Pansy responded as Ron rolled his eyes, and she continued, “I actually do know of a place, if you’re interested.”

“Really? We checked everywhere. There’s no other listing.”

“Um. Draco is looking for roommates.”

Ron actually laughed out loud, before he noticed her serious expression.

“Absolutely not.” He said with finality.

“Suit yourself, but you would have your own rooms.”

Hermione pulled Ron aside, “Ron.”

“No!”

“Ron. It’s our only option. Do you want to live without magic in your own neighborhood? You know the ministry is cracking down on the statute of secrecy since the war.”

“I’m not living with a Death Eater!”

Pansy coughed again, “there’s actually another roommate. He’s the owner.”

“If you say Gregory god damn Goyle, I will curse you in your own shop.” Ron responded.

“It’s not. Do you remember Theo Nott?”

Hermione gasped, before schooling her expression. Her heart was racing.

“Weedy little bugger?”

“He’s grown up. Well. Anyway… I’m not sure if Theo would even lease to you, but I could set up a meeting.”

“Hold up! First you say you know of a place for us, then you drop the bomb that two death eaters live there, then we have to audition for the rooms? The mother fucking AUDACITY!”

Hermione twirled her hair in thought.

“Theo was never a death eater.” Pansy insisted, and Hermione looked up and met her eyes.

“Potato, pah-tah-toe.” Ron finished.

“You’re right Ron. That doesn’t sound like it will work, after all.”

Ron looked back at her confused, “really? You’re agreeing with me just like that? I mean I want out of mum and dad’s too. I expected to throw a little fit and then let you get your way. You know, like old times.”

Hermione really hated that he matured and found himself funny in times like these.

“No. You’re right. I don’t see how you and Draco can move past your differences, and Theo… well, yeah, we’ll just find a nice muggle neighborhood and adapt to the statute. It’s no big deal for me as I’m sure you realize.”

Pansy was looking at Hermione with a shrewd expression. Hermione hated how observant she was.

“Mione, I can’t live without magic. I’ll Bolllocks it up. Cast without realizing it, and then where will we be? I’m set in my ways Mione.”

“Yes yes. Perfectly unable to change. I’m aware.” Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron took charge.

“We’ll take the meeting.” He said, grabbing the bags to shrink them.

“See Mione, I need magic. Every day. All the time.”

“You’re a child.”

He smiled again and nodded toward Pansy, as he made his way to leave.

Pansy stopped Hermione before she turned, “Hermione, is there something…”

She cut her off, pulling away, “thank you for the clothes, your service has been exemplary, I’ll be sure to mention your name in the tabloids. Frankly my tits have never looked better.” She grinned and felt pleased at the smooth subject change.

She ignored Pansy’s stare as she left through the door after Ron.

“Okay what was that about?” Ron asked, abruptly.

“Ron! Don’t do that! You can just pop out around doors. I could have hexed your bollocks off.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. What is your deal with Theodore Nott?”

She started walking faster. He sped up to keep the pace.

“Look. It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. You’re willing to live with ferret face Malfoy without even blinking, but Theo Nott? Someone I barely even remember, makes you change your mind? What’s going on.”

“Okay. Great. I’ve forgotten how much I enjoyed your perception. Especially when it comes to my own business.”

“You know how stubborn I am, might as well get it over with.”

She sighed, “look, nothing happened. It’s just weird is all. There was a moment during 8th year that was… something. Or nothing. I don’t know. Okay. He just makes me uncomfortable.”

“Did he do something to you?”

Hermione could see his temper start to rise, “no! Nothing like that. It’s really nothing. I was coming back from Hogsmead, Rita Skeeter’s articles were in every fucking issue of the prophet, and I ran into him. That’s the whole story.”

“It sounds like the whole story.”

She sighed again, “just drop it okay. We had one, slightly interesting interaction, and that was the last I heard from him. Truth be told I’m just embarrassed and not looking forward to seeing him. I promise that’s all.”

“You had an interesting interaction with him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Merlin no! Ugh. You are such a gossip you know! Just leave it okay. It’s nothing.”

“Alright, but I’m not going to control myself if he hurts you somehow.”

“He won’t.” He already did. She thought.

He linked their arms and moved towards the apparition point, dropping it for now.


	4. New roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call them cigarettes. Yes I know that’s not what they are called abroad.

Pansy motioned them through the door to the table in the dining area. The space was larger than Hermione expected, especially since there was such unavailability in flats in the area. She expected to hate it and was pleasantly surprised. 

Draco sat at the table waiting for them, drumming his thumbs against the ash colored wood. Theo leaned against the sofa, mildly facing their direction, an indifferent expression painted on his face. 

Ron glared at Draco, and he replied in kind. 

Hermione chanced a glance at Theo and found him watching her. She felt herself captivated by his eyes once again. She had to look away. 

The silence felt thick in the room, and Pansy seemed anxious as she surveyed the faces. She cleared her throat, “so this is the flat. Draco would you like to give them a tour? Theo?” 

Her words cut through the silence but not the tension. 

Draco pointed, “rooms, one bathroom, living area, dining table, kitchen, balcony.” He never left his chair.

“Great tour you pounce.” Ron broke with a mischievous grin. 

Draco took a deep breath, “I’m sure Granger can manage to escort an oaf like you around. Our rooms have the doors closed, and you shall not enter.” 

“You shall not enter!” Ron bellowed in a deep voice much like Hagrid’s, “are you really still such an arrogant arse?”

Draco stood up, “I can’t do this Pans. This is not. Going. To. Work. I can’t live with him, and Merlin knows she’s going to be a nightmare.” 

Hermione sighed, “Draco.” 

The use of his first name startled him into turning around. 

He raised one brow, as if to say yes? 

“Look, we appreciate the uncomfortable aspect of this transaction. Pansy has been lovely to us at the shop, and we really need a place to stay.” 

Pansy has been lovely? That was laying it on a bit thick. Ron snorted. 

Draco took a deep calming breath, “I can’t live with someone that will hex me behind my back. I won’t live in fear anymore. Not that I’m afraid of you!” He pointed at Ron, who grinned, “but I’d like to be in a relaxing environment. I meditate now. I’m willing to call a truce.” 

“Truce.” Ron saluted. 

Draco rolled his eyes and nodded to Pansy before he left for his room, shutting the door silently. 

Theo had not spoken, but his eyes still lingered on Hermione. 

Hermione felt brave, as she stood to face him, forcing him to confront her, “Theo, thank you for opening your home to us.” 

He met her eyes again, “it’s temporary.” He shrugged, moving to the balcony for a cigarette, “there are rules of course, I’m sure Draco will make you a copy.” He shut the balcony door quickly. 

“So this is going to be fun.” Ron said, pulling out his bag that Hermione had shrunk. 

“Yeah.” Hermione replied dumbly, looking towards Pansy as she moved to the balcony to talk to Theo. 

“Thank you Pansy.” May as well start using first names Hermione thought. 

She nodded back as she closed the balcony door behind her, leaving Hermione and Ron to themselves to find their rooms. 

She sat down next to Theo. Offering him the silent support that he so craved until he finished his first cigarette. 

“How long do you think, before Weasley and Draco duel?” 

“15 minutes.” 

She laughed, “thanks for doing this Theo. I know you didn’t want to.” 

“It’s just 6 months.” He shrugged again. 

“Yes well. I know it can’t be easy for you. What with her being here.” 

Theo surveyed her carefully, “did she say something?” 

“She didn’t have to. Her apprehension was clue enough. I’m sure you’re not going to satisfy my curiosity, so I’ll just have to make friends with her. Or acquaintances or something.” 

“All for some bullshit gossip?” 

“So something did happen.” She looked triumphant. 

He shook his head. Not answering, thinking back to the light pink sky he once saw with her. 

Something did happen. 

————

Ron cracked an egg into the bowl, as Hermione stirred a spoon into her light pink tea cup. It was feminine in the way she liked and sought to embrace these days. Small joys she tried to focus on through her struggles.

Things were quieter than she expected, here at the flat. The silence and tension coming off of Draco and Theo was beginning to get underneath her skin. 

She heard Draco’s door open and close as he strolled into the dining area, watching them. It was annoying. Say good morning you prat, she thought as she moved to let him by. Although she made no effort to greet him. She knew she would regret her hypocrisy later, as she often did. 

He didn’t say anything as he grabbed his coffee cup and moved into his daily ritual of cream plus sugar plus a dash of cinnamon, just for pretension Hermione assumed. 

She hated the awkwardness of the situation. Not just between Draco and Ron and even her to some extent, although it had been a long time since Draco bothered her. His dramatics were exhausting, but he was harmless. He bought them time when they were discovered at his manor and that was good enough for her, even if he was a bigoted prick. He wasn’t an evil bigoted prick.

But Theo, Gods Theo, was driving her insane. Did she make it all up? That’s what upset her from the beginning when she thought about him. Back when it happened. Back when she felt so much hope and anticipation about the whole thing. She thought she had misread things, she thought maybe her assumptions were wrong and she was the one that made things awkward. But when he made the choice to not speak to her the rest of the year she understood that it was him after all. 

He was making a firm statement by saying nothing at all. And frankly why should she give a damn. Who was he? Just some boy. A man would have had the courage to say something, let her down, be honest in his treatment of her. So she was determined not to feel hurt by him. This boy. Not to feel for him at all. 

And now? Now they were living together of all things. When it happened her first thought was, “oh my God they were roommates.” But then when he ignored her, and continued to ignore her she made a decision. Fantasies were lovely when you’re in bed and dreaming, but fantasies were ridiculous in your every day life. She did not want to live in a fantasy anymore. It was time to move on.

But she also did not want to live as strangers. Wasn’t there some sort of middle ground? All he seemed to do, is hole up in his room, brooding or something she supposed. Maybe avoiding her? Then he’d smoke his awful cigarettes on the balcony, and go for walks? That’s all she was able to determine so far. She was determined not to pay him any more attention on the matter. He wanted to pretend like she didn’t exist, well fine. Who gives a shit! 

The most ridiculous thing seemed to be the fact that Draco and Theo didn’t seem to eat. There were crisps, and Jaffa cakes, toast… but where was the real food? Did they just go out for takeaway for lunches and dinners? Hermione had Ron so luckily she wouldn’t starve. 

For some reason cooking did not come naturally to Hermione. She thrived on rules so she wrongfully assumed that cooking would be another thing she excelled out. She was woefully ignorant on that matter. Mrs. Weasley tried, bless her heart, but eventually suggested Hermione try a muggle cooking school, which she assumed was code for please stop “cooking” in my kitchen. Hermione lost interest in the whole thing not long afterwards.

Besides where was the motivation to improve when Ron was an amazing cook! 

She smelled the aroma of sautéed onions in the pan. Heavenly. 

She noticed Draco watching Ron out of the corner of her eye. That was it! She realized. He didn’t know how to cook either. She wondered if he had ever tried. No wonder there was no real food around here. 

“Ron is a wonderful cook Draco, didn’t you know?” She asked finally, wondering if he would actually respond to her this time. 

“I can’t imagine Weasley being good at anything.” He scowled and Ron snorted. 

“Suit yourself mate, see if you ever get an omelette from me.” 

Draco scowled harder, sipping his coffee aggressively. He pursed his lips and then decided to ask something, he had no doubt been deliberating on for a while, “when you moved in, I assumed Potter would be here nonstop, thank Merlin I was wrong on that account. Did you have a lover’s spat Weasley?” 

Ron grinned, “we see Harry all the time.” But that’s all he offered up. 

Draco rolled his eyes, “you can have people over here you know. Unless they’re all scared of a big bad Death Eater.” 

Was that consideration? An offer to make this place more like a home? Hermione smiled, “we will have people over, thank you. There was a whole section on guests in the rule book. Very thorough by the way.” 

Ron laughed, as he poured the mixture into the pan, seasoning the food as Draco continued to look on. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, look at the mess you’re currently making. Did you read the section on tidiness at all or do you just insist on infuriating me until I snap.” 

“Oh.” Hermione inserted, “sorry I clean the dishes when he’s done. He cooks, I clean.” 

“How domestic. Make sure it’s spotless when I get back.” 

“Yes dad.” She joked and laughed at his shocked expression. 

He quickly cleaned his cup, and glared at her as Ron said, “Hermione I don’t think you’re the type he wants to call him daddy.” He winked as Draco stormed off. 

They were alone again. Maybe. Who knows if Theo was around. 

“Let’s go out tonight Ron.” Hermione kissed his cheek as he put her plate in front of her. She took her first bite of omelette and sighed in ecstasy. He was a really really good chef. 

“Sure. There’s some new bars down the street. Luckily this place is just outside Diagon. Makes things so convenient. Are you picking up men tonight?” He winked and continued to eat his breakfast.

“Most likely it would be only one man.” She grinned. 

“Ahh. So boring.” 

“Yes well, I’m not sure I’m exactly the threesome type. Too much anxiety, in my opinion. Instead of worrying about one person having a good time, now there is two to please. So stressful.” 

“You should really try just focusing on yourself.” 

“Selfish lover.” She teased, knowing that was in fact, not the case. 

“Well it may help you to get out of your head a bit.” He would know.

“I try, it’s just hard to enjoy things when I feel like I should be doing something.” 

“Not when it’s your turn.” He laughed again. 

“Well I think that’s why it’s so much better when it’s with someone you know well. Someone you’re comfortable with. Someone that knows I’m a control freak. Easier to let go, you know. Merlin knows how hard it is for me to let go! I don’t think I ever have completely.” 

“But it’s so hot when it’s someone you don’t know. A stranger. Then it’s all your fantasies realized because they could be anyone. They could want anything. They could give you everything.”

“But they never do. It’s usually just a lousy lay!” 

“Maybe for you. Not the case for me normally.” 

“Well men are much simpler, I suppose. What was with all that teasing of Draco. I thought you’d be down his throat with your temper.” 

“Oh I won’t be down his throat at all.” He shivered and Hermione laughed again. 

“This is better. Riling him up is way more fun than screaming at each other.” 

“So he really doesn’t bother you?” She questioned. Turning things more serious. 

“Look, I’ve thought about this a lot. Him. You. Harry. Me. My family. The war. I know everyone is having a really hard time right now. I am too. Every time I think of Fred… it’s… bad. Okay. But when I think of him, I also think about how much fun he had every day. Can you imagine living life like that? Just laughing and joking, and enjoying life every day?” 

“No.” She answered truthfully. 

“I choose to be happy Hermione. Every day, I think of him, and I choose to be happy. I spent too long holding grudges and punishing people for things I couldn’t control. Because I couldn’t control them. I couldn’t control the fact that Fred died, or that you and I aren’t meant to be, or that we’ve pretty much lost Harry. I can only control myself. And I’m tired of being miserable. George is starting to come around with me at the shop, it will never be the same and I’m pretty sure we both cry at least once a day, but… we both laugh too. You know. It’s better. So I’m not letting Draco bother me.” 

“Draco?” 

“Yes Draco. The Ferret is gone. Officially. He’s now Draco. And now I’m going to do things like see how long it takes him and his angry scowling friend to ask me to cook for them.” 

“His angry scowling friend may be listening to us right now.” She whispered. 

“Well good, I hope he is. Then maybe he’ll suck it up and ask for some eggs.” 

She smiled at her friend again, “I’m really sorry about us not working out you know. The sex was pretty good.” 

“Well yes, ‘I just survived a war’ sex, usually is pretty good, but I understand, you know. There’s something off with us. Chemistry, compatibility, something.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. Ron was not her person. 

“So since we are both single, let’s make tonight fun, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She agreed as she grabbed his plate to wash. She always had fun with Ron. 

————

Theo was listening. How could he not? They were talking about Draco, and sex, and the war. Always the war. 

It sounded healthy the way they spoke to one another and once again Theo wondered if they deserved to be together. If it was really them that were soulmates. He would always wonder. 

He was called angry. Which was the truth. And he did scowl. He found that he was always scowling and it was exhausting. But how could he do anything but scowl?

Every time he tried to forget his responsibilities and just do what he wanted, and live his life, the 6 month deadline always came back to the forefront. 

He knew if he talked to her, he would never be able to stop, and if he looked at her, really looked at her, he would never be able to sign that contract. 

Hermione was someone that saw through his façade and he could not let her do that. Now that she lived here, he had to keep his distance. He tried to ignore her and keep to his room. Draco had already called him out on it once. 

“Have some manners Theo.” 

Well, he wasn’t rude in his indifference at least. But he couldn’t allow himself to get close to her. He remembered how it felt. That one day. That one day, that he wasn’t allowed to have again. He couldn’t let it become another day. Every day. Every single day. 

He sighed. Knowing he would eventually have to talk to her. Push her away. Keep her at an arms length. Watch her start to hate him. So that when he left, she would be better off. 

Everyone was better off keeping their distance from him. If he was truly honest with himself. He didn’t have a mark on his arm, but he wasn’t a good man. 

He slept with women and didn’t floo them or owl them or call them, if they were muggle. He didn’t even know how to use a phone but he still said he’d call with a smile. He was a liar. He didn’t even pause when the lies came out of his mouth. 

So many lies came out of his mouth. He walked down to Knockturn Alley for his appointment. 

It wasn’t strictly illegal what he was doing. Forging documents. It was only truly a crime in the muggle world, but the wizards and witches that were his clients were not allowed to leave wizarding Britain. So they were the ones breaking the law. He just helped them succeed. Loopholes were his specialty. 

His art talent led to mixing magic into his muggle drawings. He created something new. Something no one else was doing. 

Photographers imbibed the film with magic and this was similar. No one would guess his work was forged. He was pristine in the details. Not one of his clients had ever been caught. 

He didn’t want to be a better man. That’s what she would try to do. Change him, fix him, blame him, end up hating him. 

And yet. He didn’t want her to come home with a man tonight. She was too pure for that surely. She wouldn’t sleep around. She couldn’t be casual. No man in his right mind would leave her without saying goodbye. They would chase her, and date her, and she would change them, and fix them, and put them in her perfect little life and perfect little box. 

No. She wouldn’t bring a man home tonight. He felt his anxiety in the matter settle. It would be fine, and he could do this. Live with her. Until he left. 


	5. A night out

Hermione walked over to Pansy’s shop. It truly was convenient living this close to Diagon. She hoped Pansy had what she was looking for.

“How can I help you?” Pansy asked.

“Is there anyway you can be less… formal?” Hermione asked. It was uncomfortable to be around Pansy.

“As you wish.” Pansy painted on a fake smile.

“Great. Much better.” Hermione spoke sarcastically, “I was hoping you might have something… sexy. For going out tonight.”

Pansy squinted her eyes at the Gryffindor.

“You want to look sexy?” She clarified.

“Well yes. We’re going out. Dancing. Drinking. You know!”

Pansy looked around at the dresses.

“I’m sure I have something. How is it going at Theo’s?” Pansy really was curious.

She sighed and Pansy raised one eyebrow in interest.

“It’s fine. Honestly a bit quiet. Boring? Ugh I feel horrible saying that.” She laughed.

“So you moved in so they could entertain you?”

“Well no. We moved in to run away from all our problems. Of course.” Why was she even telling her this.

Pansy nodded, “they will come around.”

Hermione shook her head in agreement, “I don’t hate you, you know.”

“I never thought enough about it to care.” She bit back.

Hermione tried again, “I appreciate you creating beautiful things for me to wear, and for helping us find the flat. It’s better than where we were. Even if things are strange.”

“You’re welcome.” Pansy was surprised by her friendliness, but she thought this might be her only chance, “I never wanted Potter to die you know.”

Hermione stopped looking at the dresses nearest to her, “oh?”

“I just wanted the war to stop. I never dreamed he would actually win. It seemed more… prudent to choose the side I did at the time.”

“Ah, Slytherin self preservation.”

“Yes. I mean familial responsibilities and pressure as well but… I never wanted to fight a war.”

“None of us did.”

“I’m not brave Hermione. And frankly I don’t feel bad about that. I’m loyal to my friends and I was loyal to my family.”

“You’re not anymore?”

“It all seems so damaging now.”

“Yeah well, we’re all damaged. But you know what, I actually forgive you. Even though, you never said you were sorry. You were 18? 19? Who knows. If I were Slytherin I probably would have done the same thing. When you’re born into something, it’s not as easy as right and wrong. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“I think I have the perfect dress for you.” Pansy changed the subject, and it was her way of acknowledging the truce between them, “You’re so petite, a babydoll dress would be super sexy. Light pink?”

“Stylish. Nice platforms, but I think I will die trying to wear those.” Hermione eyed the chunky shoes.

“Magic darling.” She said, as Hermione grinned.

After Pansy fit her Hermione felt amazing. Pansy had a way of giving you confidence by complimenting her own clothes and designs.

When Hermione was leaving she turned, “um. What are you doing tonight?” This was a bad idea.

“Nothing.”

“Would you like to come out with Ron and I?”

“Can I just say how odd your dynamic is?”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. Where will you be.”

Hermione gave her the time and information.

“Maybe we will see you there.”

Pansy nodded in indifference. She didn’t think she could stand a night out with the two Gryffindors but there was something… intriguing about going. She pushed it out of her mind when Ron flashed to the front of it. She did not have a crush on Weasley. If anything she wanted to befriend Hermione. When was the last time she had a female friend?

Someone that likes her for who she was, and not her status or family.

Ever since Hermione walked in her shop, she felt at peace with their past, maybe she was jealous before, maybe she was just an insecure child, but there was something to be said by the independence and self sufficient confidence that grew by being on your own and making your own choices. She hadn’t seen her parents in a year. Thank Merlin for that.

She didn’t care about their pasts anymore. Hermione used to be annoying and self righteous. A know it all. Pansy used to be a bitch. She was self aware at least. But who was she now? That was the question. And she’d be a fool not to find out.

————

Theo and Draco sat on the sofa when Hermione walked out of her room. She had on her slip of a dress and her legs looked long as the hem barely hit mid thigh. She still looked like herself and ignored Pansy’s suggestion to wear frosted eyeshadow. She was sure that icy blue was not her color. But she had tamed her hair and threw on a shiny clear gloss with her mascara.

Both men turned to look at her. Draco’s eyes bulged as he took in Hermione’s short dress. Theo looked bored on the surface but Hermione stared longer into his eyes before he looked away. She could see something there, just past the exterior.

She rolled her eyes. No time for his bullshit, she decided. Ron walked out. He was wearing a nice pair of trousers Pansy made him and he looked handsome with his tousled hair. Growing it out a bit, was a good look for him. It wasn’t as long as Bill’s but it skimmed his neck.

Hermione kissed his cheek and waved at the surly men on the couch. Ron paused, weighing his offer before saying, “we’ll be at The Kneazle’s Whiskers, if you feel like joining. Pansy might meet us there.”

Ron acted indifferent about that part. Like she was the furthest thing from his mind, but Hermione noticed how he pulled on his shirt, when he said her name. The classic tell of anxiety showing through. Hmm she wondered. Would they be a good fit? There seemed to be chemistry, she acknowledged, vowing to pay close attention to them both when they were out. If she decided to show up.

“Thanks.” Draco answered before taking a sip of his drink.

Theo merely nodded at them, which honestly was a big improvement from his icy formalities so far.

They linked arms and decided to walk there. It was a quick 10 minute walk from their flat and Hermione once again marveled at the fact that she was nearby everything.

They walked inside and found that the new bar was already crowded. The music felt fresh and the lights bounced against their skin. She felt great already.

“Let’s go dance!” She yelled in his ear.

“Let’s get a drink!” He smiled at her enthusiasm.

He looked around the room. Searching for Pansy, she assumed, but Hermione knew Pansy would not arrive for another hour or so. She couldn’t seem too eager. It was such a Slytherin thing to do.

“She’s not here yet!”

“Who?” Ron grinned, as she rolled her eyes.

They slid up to the bar, recognizing the bartender.

“Seamus! I can’t believe you work here! It’s been too long.”

Seamus slid over a few shot glasses, “first drinks are on me, we have muggle and wizarding alcohol. Makes for some pretty potent drinks. Are you interested?” His grin, said it all.

“What the hell.” Ron answered for them both, as Seamus poured the alcohol. They recognized the fire whiskey and watched as he added a clear muggle liquor, everclear? To the tall shot glass. Then he used his wand and murmured a spell to set the shots on fire, the fire burned into a slow blue wisp and he motioned that they were ready to drink them.

Hermione threw hers back in one, choking slightly as the liquor burned down her throat. Damn that was nice. Ron asked for another but Hermione bowed out of the repeat. The goal was to have fun and not to black out. She asked for a water instead.

“A water’s not very exciting,” a man on her right spoke closely to her ear.

She turned. His skin gleamed golden under the lights and she gasped. Blaise Zabini. Fuck when was the last time she saw him?

“Blaise.” She nodded.

“Hermione.” He spoke her name in a smooth caress across his lips.

She couldn’t help but look down as he bit one and then grinned at her. His teeth were extremely white and straight and the dentists’ daughter in her approved. Damn he was attractive.

“It’s been a while.” She said, lamely.

He laughed and pulled up to the stool.

“Just long enough, I think. What are you doing these days? The Prophet was all up in arms when you were hooking up with Wood. Not that I blame you, the man looks handsome on a broom.” He winked at her and Hermione couldn’t help but blush.

“Well that was mostly just the shagging you know, I always did hate quidditch.” Her confidence rose as the liquor warmed her stomach.

If he seemed surprised by her bold statement, he didn’t show it, instead he said, “let me buy you a drink?”

It was a question, not a demand, which Hermione appreciated and she only needed to think for a moment before she agreed.

“What will you have?” He asked.

“Not that terrible shot he poured beforehand. I’d really rather not spend the night puking, if you don’t mind. Firewhiskey on the rocks.”

He nodded, before capturing Seamus’ attention.

Pansy watched from the door as her friend Blaise slid up to the Gryffindor. Oh this was interesting. Theo would have a right fit, if he were here. Oh how Pansy enjoyed chaos.

Her eyes sought out the red head next to Hermione. Ron was in a friendly conversation with Seamus and didn’t seem to pay Hermione any mind. Pansy walked over with her head held high.

She wore the little black dress and leather boots with fishnet stockings which were ripped in several places. She put on body glitter and the lights made her shimmer. Ron noticed her and stared, his jaw dropping briefly, before he smiled and said something to Seamus again.

He poured two more shots, and Ron grabbed one and held it out towards Pansy.

“Parkinson, have a drink.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She replied, before taking the shot quickly.

He laughed, looking her up and down, in a very telling way.

“Are you checking me out Weasley.” She challenged.

“I’ve got a thing for legs.” He said cheekily, shrugging at the insinuation.

Pansy laughed, “I’m not sleeping with you. So don’t even try it.”

“Who said anything about sleeping. I’m not tired. Are you?”

She rolled her eyes, and her stomach dropped a bit, “I need another drink.”

He motioned for her to order and put it on his tab.

Seamus handed her the drink and Pansy leaned over to say hi to Hermione.

“Fancy seeing you here Zabini. I thought you were in France for the year.” She raised her eyebrow and looked toward Hermione, asking him the silent question of what the fuck do you think you’re doing? He replied in kind, glancing at Ron.

“Here on business. Although I might be staying for a bit. Things have suddenly gotten so interesting, don’t you think?” He looked again at the oddly matched group.

“Let’s dance!” Hermione said again, breaking up whatever was happening between the former dorm mates. She was certainly not here for that. This was not that night.

The group moved to the dance floor. She immediately sided up to Pansy smiling as she threw up her hands and moved her hips to the beat. Pansy was shocked into laughter, watching Hermione’s rhythm. She wasn’t a natural dancer, but her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon Pansy too closed her eyes and blissfully danced.

Hermione was fucking fun, Pansy decided, who would have ever thought?

Blaise immediately tried to corner Hermione and Ron had a similar idea with Pansy, but the girls pressed against each other as a platonic, joyous, pair.

Ron laughed watching the girls, and soon gave up trying to impress the pureblood snake. He too threw up his hands and moved to the music. They spent hours on the dance floor.

Blaise and Ron, it turned out got along swimmingly. Apparently they were enough acquaintances from Hogwarts that they had things in common but enough strangers to each other that house affiliation didn’t matter, and they didn’t have to dwell on all the crap from the past.

By the end of the night they were all, “dude we should hang out.” And “let’s go to brunch! I fucking love brunch.” And, “I can bench press 100 kg.” And, “I try to get in 10 km on a Saturday. Let’s fucking DO IT!”

Hermione and Pansy, laughed as they walked back to her flat.

“Just crash at ours, Ron can sleep on the sofa.” Hermione was saying to Pansy, as Blaise slid his arm around her neck and she giggled.

They pulled up to the door, and Hermione fumbled with the keys, forgetting that her wand was strapped to her thigh.

“I’m starving! Let’s make fish and chips!”

“Ron, you will burn the flat down so help me. Grab a biscuit like a normal drunk.”

He walked in with Pansy, leaving Blaise and Hermione at the door.

“Um, do you want to use the floo to go back to your place,” she asked, as he leaned in closer to her mouth.

“Hermione.” He said, as he licked his lips and looked up into her eyes for permission.

Fuck. She bit her lip and looked down at his plush mouth, then she looked back up into his eyes and he made the move.

Blaise pressed his mouth against hers and she gasped out for a breath. Damn, his mouth was so soft and he pressed harder against her.

She shut the door, shielding them from her flat mates as he continued to kiss against her.

She felt his erection press against her bare thigh and his hands slip up slowly over the back of her legs. It felt so good. Yes she wanted this.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pushed her back against the wall next to her front door.

“Hermione.” He said again, begging her to invite him in, as his hands groped her silk covered arse.

“Blaise.” She pulled back, her eyes searching his. Her heart rate starting to slow. His hands slid back down, out of her dress and on top of her waist loosely.

“Okay.” He agreed, softly kissing her cheek.

“I’m sorry, I just.”

“Hermione, you don’t need to explain yourself. That wasn’t what tonight was about. I get it. Can I take you on a proper date?”

She smiled, nodding. Tripping over her platform shoes, as she tried to move toward the door.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked with genuine concern.

“Yes. Sorry. I’m drunk.”

He laughed and nodded his head in agreement.

“Will you make it home okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” He pulled a strand of her hair, back behind her ear.

He kissed her lips softly again, before pulling back to go home.

Hermione smiled as she stumbled inside, her purse falling loudly to the ground near the door.

Ron was passed out on the couch, and she assumed Pansy was in his bed.

She walked into the hallway, and straight into a very solid man.

One that smelled like oak trees and rain, and oh God oh God.

She looked up. Theo was steadying her with his hands and his eyes were relentless into hers.

“Theo?” She let it out as a small cry.

“You’re drunk Hermione.” He said in judgement, as if he knew what happened in the hallway just moments ago. As if he had a right to judge her.

“Are you mad about that?” She pushed off of him, but one of his hands still enclosed one of her arms trapping her out in the hallway with him.

“It’s none of my business what you do.” He answered, but his eyes said he was furious, his motherfucking eyes blamed her for her actions tonight. And he had no right to look at her like that!

“I’m tired of this Theo!” She was just drunk enough to say what was on her mind. To stop this game.

She continued, “You think you can just ignore me and go on your merry way. You’re pretending and you know it. Don’t make me feel like I am crazy!” She was furious at him too.

“It’s for the best Hermione.”

“Yeah. Right. The best for you. Got it.” She moved to go again, and he pulled her back towards him leaning her against the outside of her room, against the wall, just like Blaise had done only moments before, only Theo’s gentleness consumed her. No erection pressed into her, and yet the wanting was felt on every part of her body. She trembled.

“You know I can’t. I want to but I can’t.” He really did look pained as he spoke.

She searched his eyes. She never understood when he spoke in riddles.

“So we’re just supposed to go on ignoring each other forever? I’m tired of being ignored Theo. Of pretending that day meant nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. It was everything. I can’t give you more Hermione.” He was firm as he spoke. He was sure of it, she knew. She wondered if he expected her to forget all of this in the morning.

“Fine! I get it. We are never going to happen. Great. BUT STOP IGNORING ME THEODORE NOTT!”

She pushed off of him again, breaking free this time and slamming her door as she kicked off her shoes and wept. So much for a fun, and carefree night.


End file.
